Jericho pov.
"Here."
I pushed the stack of money forward and leaned back on the couch, my gun resting loosely in my hand—loose enough to seem casual, ready enough to end the room if I chose. The leather creaked under me as I shifted, watching Marcus's reaction like I was watching a slow, predictable movie.
He stared between me and the cash, throat bobbing. He hadn't expected me to bring the money so easily. Humans never understood that the simplest part of a deal was paying for what you wanted. The difficult part was surviving if you tried to cheat an Alpha.
"Count it if you want," I said, my voice flat.
I almost added, It'll be the last thing you ever count, but I held it back. No need to rush. He was already too nervous to notice the quiet threat in my tone.
Marcus licked his lips. "Right. Yeah. Let me… let me check."
His fingers shook as he reached for the money. Pathetic. His men straightened behind him like they were something to fear. Ten humans, puffed up and proud, acting like numbers meant anything to a werewolf, to an Alpha. It was almost funny.
Ralph stood at my side, arms crossed. He looked bored. Not tense, not alert—bored. He could take down every single man in this room before any of them squeezed a trigger properly. And the idiot standing in front of me didn't even realize it.
They never did. Humans always believed guns made them equal.
Marcus flipped through the cash, muttering under his breath like he didn't trust his own ability to count. Sweat collected on his brow. He looked up at me again, like expecting me to blink first. I didn't. I could sit in this exact position for hours without moving. He would've broken long before I did.
"So," I said, dragging the word with deliberate impatience, "the goods?"
That snapped him out of it. He cleared his throat, then snapped his fingers at one of his guys. The man hurried to the back and hauled over a black gym bag. It hit the table with a heavy thud.
I unzipped it. Inside: bricks of white powder, taped tight. Pure coke. Straight from south of the border, just like Marcus had promised. For all his stupidity, he had good connections. Shame he didn't have good instincts.
I reached for the goods—
He pulled the bag back.
A small, ugly smile crawled onto his face as he raised his gun, pointing it right at me. "You know what?" he said. "I changed my mind. I want both your money and my goods back."
Of course. I almost laughed. He had just stepped into the trap willingly, blindly, confidently.
Great. Just like I planned.
"I think you're forgetting who you're dealing with, Marcus," I said.
His smile widened, and he waved the gun at my face like he was showing off a new toy. "It's just the two of you, Jericho. Next time, don't trust anyone. Even if you've been dealing with them for a while."
Behind him, his men chuckled. The sound was high and shaky, the way prey laughed when they thought they'd become predators.
Ralph turned his head slightly. "Can I kill them now?" he asked, almost sounding hopeful.
Marcus snapped his gun toward Ralph. "Try anything and I'll—"
"You'll what?" I cut in. "Shoot him?"
Marcus smirked. "Exactly."
I tilted my head, watching him like he was the entertainment for the evening. "Go ahead then. Shoot him."
His smile faltered. "What?"
"Shoot him," I repeated. "Since you're so confident."
Ralph snorted. "Please do. I'm bored."
"You had a clean deal," I said. "Money for product. Everyone walks away. But you got greedy. And greedy men don't last long."
Marcus swallowed hard. "You think I'm scared of you?"
"No," I said. "I think you're stupid."
His face twisted with anger. "I'm warning you—"
"No," I said, raising my gun, "here's your warning."
He flinched when I aimed.
"You have three seconds," I said.
He blinked. "To do what?"
"To run."
Marcus stared at me like he couldn't tell if I was serious.
"Three."
His gun shook.
"Two."
Ralph straightened, smiling for the first time all night.
"One."
Marcus panicked and fired.
The bullet tore through my shoulder. Pain ripped across my arm, hot and sharp.
I grinned.
Marcus's eyes widened. "What the—"
Ralph moved first. He lunged, grabbed the nearest man, and threw him into another. Gunshots exploded around us. The room dissolved into chaos. Men shouted, stumbled, scrambled for cover they didn't have.
I got to my feet slowly, ignoring the sting in my shoulder. I aimed and fired. One shot, clean and perfect, took out Marcus's gun. It flew from his hand, clattering across the concrete.
It didn't take long before it was down to just us—, me, Ralph and Marcus. Fear filled his eyes as he struggled on the ground. Perhaps trying to comprehend a bullet hit me and I was just fine.
I aimed lower. Fired again. The bullet hit his leg. He collapsed, howling, clawing at the floor, dragging himself backward.
"Jericho—Jericho, wait—" he begged.
I walked toward him, the gun now aimed directly at his face. "And I actually liked doing business with you".
"I messed up—I messed up, okay! I—I'm sorry—"
"No," I said, crouching down until we were eye‑to‑eye. "Ralph".
He grabbed Marcus by the collar and dragged him backward. Marcus screamed, reaching toward me, begging for anything—mercy, forgiveness, a second chance he didn't deserve.
"Jericho—please—please—I can pay you back—I can—"
Ralph looked at me. "What do you want done with him?"
I stood, rolling my shoulder where the bullet hit. The pain flared again, but it didn't matter.
"Deal with it," I said.
Marcus screamed again. His voice echoed against the walls until Ralph dragged him out of sight. Then it cut off abruptly. "Get the car ready." I murmured.
I crouched beside the bullet wound, hand closing around a knife that had fallen from one of the guys' belts. Without hesitation, I plunged it into my shoulder, twisting with precision. Pain flared, hot and sharp.
Blood welled immediately, and I worked quickly, forcing the bullet out in one smooth motion. The muscle snapped back, closing up almost immediately, leaving only a faint trickle of blood.
"Christ…" Ralph muttered behind me, clearly impressed.
I slid the knife back into my boot, stood, and tested my shoulder. Feels a little stiff, but nothing I can't handle.
"Where to?" Ralph asked.
A slow smile tugged at my lips. "To your Donna's."